The three entered the cabin to find the maidens seated demurely on the bunk. Doctor Lalanke made a series of signs; with every show of docility the three filed from the cabin.

Varmous shook his head in bewilderment. “I cannot understand the furore! Cugel, is this the extent of your complaint?”

“I will say this: the Avventura will continue to sail with the caravan.”

Clissum pulled at his plump chin. “Since Cugel refuses to cook, where and how do we partake of the fine cuisine you advertised?”

In a spiteful voice Perruquil said: “Cugel suggested that you yourself should do the cooking.”

“I have more serious responsibilities, as Cugel well knows,” said Varmous stiffly. “It seems that I must assign a steward to the ship.” Leaning over the gunwale he called: “Send Porraig aboard!”

The three maidens suddenly performed a giddy gyration, then a leaping, crouching ballet of postures, which they accented with mocking glances and flippant gestures toward Cugel. Doctor Lalanke interpreted the movements. “They are expressing an emotion or, better, an attitude. I would not dare attempt a translation.”

Cugel turned away indignantly, in time to glimpse a flutter of fusty brown satin and the closing of the door to his cabin.

In a fury Cugel called out to Varmous: “Now the woman Nissifer has taken over my cabin!”

“This fol-de-rol must stop!” said Varmous. He knocked on the door. “Madame Nissifer, you must remove to your own quarters!”

From within came a husky whisper, barely audible. “I will stay here, since I must have the dark.”

“That is impossible! We have already allotted this cabin to Cugel!”

“Cugel must go elsewhere.”

“Madame, I regret that Cugel and I must enter the cabin and conduct you to your proper berth.”

“I will place a taint.”

Varmous looked toward Cugel with puzzled blue eyes. “What does she mean by that?”

“I am not quite clear,” said Cugel. “But no matter! Caravan regulations must be enforced. This is our first concern.”

“Quite so! Otherwise we invite chaos.”

“Here, at least, we are agreed! Enter the cabin; I stand resolutely at your back!”

Varmous settled his blouse, squared the hat upon his golden curls, pushed the door ajar and stepped into the cabin, with Cugel on his heels … Varmous uttered a strangled cry and lurched back into Cugel, but not before Cugel discovered an acrid stench so vile and incisive that his teeth felt tender in their sockets.

Varmous stumbled to the rail, leaned back on his elbows and looked blearily across the deck. Then, with an air of great fatigue, he climbed over the gunwale and lowered himself to the ground. He spoke a few words to Porraig the steward, who thereupon boarded the vessel. Varmous slackened the rope and the Avventura once more floated high.

Cugel, after a moment’s reflection, approached Doctor Lalanke. “I am impressed by your gentility and in turn I will be generous. You and your wards are now assigned to the captain’s cabin.”

Doctor Lalanke became more saturnine than ever. “My wards would be confused. For all their frivolity, they are deeply sensitive and easily disturbed. The forecastle, as it turns out, is quite comfortable.”

“Just as you like.” Cugel sauntered forward, to find that the cabin formerly allotted to Nissifer had been taken by the ecclesiarch Gaulph Rabi, while Porraig the steward had settled into the carpenter shop.

Cugel made a hissing sound between his teeth. Finding an old cushion and a ragged tarpaulin, he contrived a tent on the foredeck, and there took up residence.

The river Chaing meandered down a wide valley demarcated into fields and folds by ancient stone walls, with groups of stone farmsteads huddling under black feather trees and indigo oaks. At the side, weather-worn hills basking in the red sunlight trapped lunes of black shadow in their hollow places.

All day the caravan followed the banks of the river, passing through the villages Goulyard, Trunash and Sklieve. At sundown camp was made in a meadow beside the river.

When the sun lurched low behind the hills, a great fire was built and the travelers gathered in a circle to warm themselves against the evening chill.

The ‘premier’ passengers dined together on coarse but hearty fare which even Clissum found acceptable — all except Nissifer, who kept to her cabin, and the mimes, who sat cross-legged beside the hull of the Avventura staring fascinated into the flames. Ivanello appeared in a costume of the richest quality: loose breeches of a gold, amber and black corduroy twill, fitted black boots, a loose fusk-ivory shirt embroidered with gold floriations. From his right ear, on three inches of chain, dangled a milk-opal sphere almost an inch in diameter: a gem which fascinated the three mimes to the edge of entrancement.

Varmous poured wine with a generous hand and the company became convivial. One of the ordinary passengers, a certain Ansk-Daveska called out: “Here we sit, strangers cast willy-nilly into each other’s company! I suggest that each of us in turn introduces himself and tells his story, of whom he is and something of his achievements.”

Varmous clapped his hands together. “Why not? I will start off. Madlick, serve more wine … My story is essentially simple. My father kept a fowl-run at Waterwan across the estuary and produced fine fowl for the tables of the locality. I thought to follow in his footsteps, until he took a new spouse who could not abide the odor of burning feathers. To please this woman my father gave up the fowl and thought to cultivate lirkfish in shallow ponds, which I excavated from the ground. But owls gathered in the trees and so annoyed the spouse that she went off with a dealer in rare incenses. We then operated a ferry service from Waterwan to Port Perdusz, until my father took too much wine and, falling asleep in the ferry, drifted out to sea. I then became involved in the caravan trade and you know all the rest.”

Gaulph Rabi spoke: “I hope that my life, in contrast to that of Varmous, will prove inspiring, especially to the younger persons present, or even to such marginal personalities as Cugel and Ivanello.”

Ivanello had gone to sit beside the mimes. He called out: “Now then! Insult me as you will, but do not pair me off with Cugel!”

Cugel refused to dignify the comment with his attention.

Gaulph Rabi showed only a faint cold smile. “I have lived a life of rigid discipline, and the benefits of my regimen must be clear to all. While still a catechumen at the Obtrank Normalcy I made a mark with the purity of my logic. As First Fellow of the Collegium, I composed a tract demonstrating that succulent gluttony sickens the spirit like dry rot in wood. Even now, when I drink wine I mix therein three drops of aspergantium which brings about a bitter taste. I now sit on the Council and I am a Pantologist of the Final Revelation.”

“An enviable achievement!” declared Varmous. “I drink to your continued success, and here is a goblet of wine without aspergantium, that you may join us in the toast without distraction from the vile flavors.”

“Thank you,” said Gaulph Rabi. “This is a legitimate usage.”

Cugel now addressed the group: “I am a grandee of Almery, where I am heir to an ancient estate. While striving against injustice I ran afoul of an evil magician who sent me north to die. Little did he realize that submission is foreign to my nature —” Cugel looked around the group. Ivanello tickled the mimes with a long straw. Clissum and Gaulph Rabi argued Vodel’s Doctrine of Isoptogenesis in a quiet undertone. Doctor Lalanke and Perruquil discussed the hostelries of Torqual.

Somewhat sulkily Cugel returned to his seat. Varmous, who had been planning the route with Ansk-Daveska, finally noticed and called out: “Well done, Cugel! Most interesting indeed! Madlick, I believe that two more jugs of the economy-grade wine are in order. It is not often that we celebrate such festivals along the trail! Lalanke, do you plan to present one of your tableaus?”

Doctor Lalanke made signals; the maidens, preoccupied with Ivanello’s nonsense, at last noticed the gesticulations. They leapt to their feet and for a few moments performed a set of dizzying saltations.

Ivanello came over to Doctor Lalanke and whispered a question into his ear.

Doctor Lalanke frowned. “The question is indelicate, or at least over-explicit, but the answer is ‘yes’.”

Ivanello put another discreet question, to which Doctor Lalanke’s response was definitely frosty. “I doubt if such ideas even enter their heads.” He turned away and resumed his conversation with Perruquil.

Ansk-Daveska brought out his concertina and played a merry tune. Ermaulde, despite Varmous’ horrified expostulations, jumped to her feet and danced a spirited jig.

When Ermaulde had finished dancing, she took Varmous aside: “My symptoms were gas pains only; I should have reassured you but the matter slipped my mind.”

“I am much relieved,” said Varmous. “Cugel will also be pleased, since, as captain of the Avventura, he would have been forced to serve as obstetrician.”

The evening proceeded. Each of the group had a story to tell or a concept to impart, and all sat while the fire burned down to embers.

Clissum, so it developed, had composed several odes and upon urging from Ermaulde recited six stanzas from an extended work entitled: O Time, Be Thou the Sorry Dastard? in dramatic fashion, with vocal cadenzas between each stanza.

Cugel brought out his packet of cards and offered to teach Varmous and Ansk-Daveska Skax, which Cugel defined as a game of pure chance. Both preferred to listen as Gaulph Rabi responded to the indolent questions of Ivanello: “… no confusion whatever! The Collegium is often known as ‘the Convergence’, or even as ‘the Hub’, in a jocular sense, of course. But the essence is identical.”